The Nameless Drunken Banana Skin
by Warped Llama
Summary: These things happen to these people, who may or may not be the cast of DAAS Kapital and the crew of Red Dwarf, and the plots and characters of these sitcoms may or may not be horribly warped by the author. Who knows. You might have to read it.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

He woke up and shook his head.

"What did I do?" he muttered "And more importantly, who else was involved and do they have my name?"

He stared blearily around the tiny room.

No windows.

No doors.

"Oh no." he said to the empty walls.

He stood up and trod on something soft and squishy.

"Aaahh! Fuckin' get off me dickhead!" screamed the irate thing. Which turned out to be Paul.

"Mornin' Paul. Wait. How did I know that? Did this person- wait- how come I don't know why I know that? Of course i know why i know that I know that because I am... I am... God. I don't know why I know that. I don't know who I am! Who am I?" he said frantically.

"You're a brainless prat, you brainless prat. How much did you have to drink? Those weird Midget guys had some powerful stuff," Paul paused to sneeze loudly into his sleeve, "Not sayin' that's a bad thing though, you know what I mean?" Paul leered at him.

"Who? What midgets?"

"You don't remember? Wonder wh- wait... it could be from when me 'n' Tim played polo... with vacuum cleaners and you." he looked furtively at the amnesiac, "Your head. Richard. You know, Tricky Ricky?"

A light dawned in Richard's face.

"Oh yeah! And then you threw away the sticks and got the vacuum cleaner hoses and-" Richard looked at Paul reproachfully "Oh Paul."

Paul grinned sheepishly, "Sorry mate. You gotta admit it was fun though eh?"

"Not for me!" moaned a voice from underneath the bed Richard woke up in.

"Good morning Timothy." said Richard in a stand-offish voice.

"Mornin' ya brain dead dog turd." said Paul cheerfully."

"I hate you Paul." came the muffled reply.

Paul's irritating grin turned into a grimace.

"Don't talk about unhappiness Timothy. You don't appreciate what you have. At least they like you. They tried to kill me you know. All I wanted was the last bottle, the last bottle, and what did I get a lovely smack in the head and a kick up the arse. The feline one called me smelly and that fuckin' dead bastard called me a hobbit. A hobbit!" his face clenched like he was about to cry, "It's not my fault I'm vertically challenged! No one understands me! I hate my life!" Paul curled up into a ball.

"I hate your life too Paul and would love to take it away for you!" said Tim from beneath the bed. He emerged covered in dust clutching a half-filled, pungently alcoholic bottle. Paul paused in his self-deprecating suicidal;l mumblings to snatch the bottle from Tim and drain it dry.

"I hate my life!"

"What the fuck are we doing in here Paul? Rich? Either of you care to notice we are in a doorless, windowless box?" He charged over to the air vent.

"Hello? Is anyone out there?" He went back and sat next to Rich on the bed. "I bet it was those Crimson bastards! We never should've trusted them!" His voice cracked and squeaked.

"Oh! Tim, what happens when the air runs out?" asked Rich worriedly.

"Nah, that's what those vents are for. The air vents? Stupider than my noise hairs..." He walked over to the corner and examined the floor.

"But Tim! You mean the vents are taking the air? Oh no! We have to stop them!" He lifted up a sheet and dragged it over to the vent. Tim, oblivious to Richard's musings, he was digging his nails into the ground, scrabbling to find an opening.

"Ow!" he cried "I broke my nail!" He leapt up, shaking his hand about.

Mean while Richard was doing his best to block up at the air vent.

"Need some help, buddy?" came an unfamiliar voice.

"Ahh!" screamed Richard and he ran over to Tim.

"Tim, Tim the Airvent was talking to me!"

"Go away, my nail's broken, I'll never dance again!" cried Tim melodramatically.

Rich ran over to Paul.

"Paul!" he shook him and Paul hit him in the head with the empty bottle. Rich fell over then got up and went over to the vent.

"Hello? Vent?"

The noises of a scratchy conflict came from behind Richard. It appeared Tim was trying to convince Paul that a broken nail was worse than death, birth and buggery.

"Nothing's worse than buggery! Nothing hurts like buggery!" came Paul's oft angry voice.

"It does! It does! _I _should know!"

Richard ignored them and again spoke to the vent.

"Hello?"

"Yeah buddy, is this your sheet. Do you _mind_ gettin' it out of my face, it's ruining my quiff!"

Rich pulled the sheet out of he vent and took off the cover. it revealed a black, brightly (yet so stylishly) dressed man with extraordinary teeth.

"You're that cat!"

"Of course! Now would you get _out_ of my way!" The cat leapt out of the vent, not as gracefully as usual, and almost crashed in to the bed.

"Man, man, _what _did we _do_ last night?" he exclaimed "My head feels like the set of Robbie Rocket Pants after a big fight with one of them evil geniuses!"

"Hey! I remember! _That's_ what they meant about crimson midgets!"

"Its Red Dwarf. Blimey, man, did we drink _ all _ the marijuana gin or wha'?" commented a different voice. the pile of leather, fur, grime and dreads in the corner unfolded to reveal a sick looking Lister.

"Hey, buddy! You look as bad as I feel! I could never _look _ that bad."

All the while, Rich was getting steadily more alarmed and turned to Tim and Paul for support to find that Paul had Tim in a headlock and was telling him about his childhood as an orphan in Tangawarra.

"Paul!"

"What, Rich? Need to go to the toilet? I thought I told you, I'm _sure_ you can do it alone. Wait, who the fuck- you bastard!"

Paul dropped Tim, who fell to the floor gasping, and charged up to Lister.

"Wow man, calm down!"

"Calm down? Shut up you stinkin' sap, why are you still on my ship?"

"Man, i don't know what the smeg happened last night..."

'I do! You gave us some fuckin' filthy booze and slept in our beds! And THEN after we show such hospitality-"

"Hospitality? You nearly beat me to a pulp after we played smeggin' fish with you _five _times!"

"DON'TINTERRUPT! After such hospitality you fuckin' lock us up!"

"Hey, rhinoceros head, why would we lock _us_ up too?" interjected the Cat.

"Yeah. And where's Kryten? He can't drink, can he? What's he done?" asked Lister.

"You mean the talking shop dummy?" asked Paul, "He tried to clean my room."

"Yeh. So?"

"No one cleans Paul's room," gasped Tim, leaning on Richard for support, "no one."

Paul grinned unpleasantly, "So I stopped him."

"You what?" asked Lister, aghast at the thought of what this odorous little smeg could've done to Kryten.

"Well, first i got the chain saw-"

"You smeggin' nutter! You smeg! Your askin' for it!" Lister threw down his jacket and jumped on Paul, fists flying. It was round about that time that Tim spotted the Cat, who was trying to do his hair in the reflection of the puddle of liqueur spilt by Paul's depressive rockings.

" No pets!" screeched Tim and went for Cat. He fell flat on his face.

"What is this, slapstick for beginners?" taunted the Cat, giving Tim one of those grins. Tim leapt up and slapped him. Cat hissed and went to bite Tim.

"Why can't everyone just be _nice_ to each other?" cried Richard, distressed.

Every one stopped.

They looked at each other, then four pairs of eyes turned to Richard, standing alone, looking at them appealingly.

As one, four pairs of hands found a hard object and four different (yet equally bruising) projectiles hit Richard, who promptly collapsed.

Several hours later, after Lister had set fire to Paul's hair and eaten another cigarette, and Lister had a fat lip and both had lovely blue-black eyes, after Cat had his clothes wrinkled and Tim had broken two nails (not to mention the damage to their _hair_) and Richard was altogether bruised and paranoid, the exhausted five ceased conflicts.

"Wait a smeggin' minute. If Kryten has no legs," Lister gave Paul an angry glance,"and we're all here, then..."

A light dawned and something clicked into place.

"Goal post head!"

"That dead bastard!"

"insert tim's name for Rimmer here (i thought "my love!" would be inadequate)"

"Yeh. Rimmer."

_MEANWHILE, OUTSIDE..._

Rimmer was standing next to Flacco, an untenable position at the best of times.

"So with your alien technology and all that, are you _sure _this is the _only _way I can get a body?"

"To be sure, to be sure, at least I think I'm sure, I can never really be sure unless my hair is sure, are you sure? Well its shorn, that's enough."

"So are you or are you not you stupid bald goit?"

"I did always say I was a boiled egg on stilts, so did my mother, i should've patented it so she couldn't steal it but, well you're only young a few thousand times and what's a little hay and spittle between friends." Flacco smiled at Rimmer inanely.

"Oh fine, it'll have to do. I want a body."

Flacco raised an eyebrow. Rimmer sighed.

"Oh, if you insist, 'I wish' I had a body."

"Oh-kay, and be grateful for the beautiful face you shall be endowed... with. Have a mirror! No don't, I need it for my goldfish."

Rimmer grimaced and bent double.

"Argh! This is terrible! Its worse than when I ate bad oyster, then had a meeting with Rampaging Rob 'I'll Rip You're Teeth Out' Smith to get my money back from a broken car he sold me- argh!"

Rimmer faded out in a burst of light. His light bee clattered to the floor.

"Well that's all Ross, we'll be off..." Flacco wandered to the end of the corridor, steadily shrinking as he went. He leapt on Ross's back, turned back and winked, then the lone clown rider jumped into the emptiness of space.

Rimmer reappeared three metres away from where he vanished. He was dead white...

... with a single curl.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The five men were scattered around their limited space: Cat lying on the bed, Paul pacing, Tim following Paul, Richard following Tim and Lister hammering on the walls.

"Rimmer! You rat! You smegging arse hole! Let us the smeg out!"

"Give up. He's not listening!" exclaimed an an irritated Paul.

Rimmer's voice came out of nowhere.

"On the contrary my dear fellows I'm fascinated!"

"Let us out you insane fuck!" screamed Paul, slightly agitated.

"No, no matey. I'm sorry Listy, but you and your odorous friends could be in there for a while... at least until these other... _people_ tell me how to get to Earth. You see, I don't need you anymore Lister. Or Holly. That alien gave me something I've wanted for a long time- Life!"

Suddenly one of the walls became clear and Rimmer was revealed in all his living,m breathing alive-ety.

"Er... Rimmer?" asked Lister in an unbelieving voice.

Because this new Rimmer didn't look exactly like the old one had.

"What've you done to your hair?"

"Don't criticise! it may not be perfect to you Lister, but to me, who has been without a body for so long, it is heaven in all its blissful glory!"

"Rimmer? _Have_ you looked in the mirror?"

"No. Why should I?"

"Just do it, man..."

Lister held up a handy mirror and through the clear window Rimmer saw his living face for the first time in over three million years.

"ARGH! It's _HORRIBLE_! What has that evil little alien done to me!"

For staring back at Rimmer, rimmed (pardon the pun) by roses was a white, white face, adorned with black lipstick and eye makeup. Curling down the forehead, over a white dome of a head devoid of hair is a single curl. This head is atop a ruff and suit, the entire affect reminiscent of a classic "sad clown".

"Argh!"

"Rimmer, what 'ave you done?"

"I don't know!" gasped Rimmer and clutched at his face, "I just told the alien, the white faced one with the..." realisation dawned over the dreary landscape of Rimmer's mind, "I look just like the little bald git!"

Rimmer bit his fist and looked very scared. Lister meanwhile, was grinning like a game show host. The Cat chose this moment to wake up.

"Hey man, who invited the white freak?"

He walked over and stood next to Lister with his hands in his pockets. he stared at Rimmer for a few seconds, frowned and said:

"Hey, he looks like hadron head! Wait, he _is_ hadron head! why you got up like Mr Giggles? And _what_ are you _wearing_?"

"He's got himself a _body_, Cat." explained Lister sarcastically.

"What, _that_ body? Hell, I seen better bodies on some of my meals!" Cat grinned at Rimmer.

"Yeh. He's stuck with it. For. Ever."

Lister and the Cat started laughing and hi-fived each other.

"Would you two gimps put a stop in it? I still have you locked up!"

"Yeah, and when're you gonna let us out, fuck-face?" asked Paul amiably.

The three AllStars had (during Lister and Rimmer's altercation) seated themselves on the floor and proceeded to ignore the Dwarfers and play fish.

"Have you got aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa one?" asked Tim.

"Shut up, tooth pick, I'm conducting a conversation," Paul turned back to Rimmer baring his teeth in what was more a growl that a grin, "So hey, dickhead, gonna open the door?"

"What door?" wondered Tim bemusedly.

"I SAID shut up. What. Do. You. Have. To. Say? Wang-brain?"

"If you would be so kind, you rank midget, to silence yourself for a _brief_ moment I _might_ condescend to answer you. Hm?" replied Rimmer superciliously.

Paul gave him to to the valley and an extra for free.

"Thank you. I will let you out on the _revised_ condition, taking in account my current," Rimmer paused and poked at his face, "state, that you put me in charge of the... er... ship."

"Done!" said Paul joyfully.

"What? No, Paul! He's insane!" said Tim frantically.

"Yeah, Paul, he's _nuts_!" agreed Rich.

"That'll make a nice _change_ then," Paul commented sarcastically and raised an eyebrow. the other two looked confused. Slowly, Tim started to frown.

"Hey! Pa-"

"SHUT up Tim, the nice ex-dead fu- man is opening the door."

The door was indeed opening in the clear wall and the five men walked out.

"Phew. That's a relief. I didn't fancy going another _second_ without a shower!" said the Cat and promptly began licking his arm.

"Oh! How do you avoid hair balls?" asked Rich, intrigued.

They walked off down the corridor discussing the effects fish can have on hair balls. Paul meanwhile, was attempting homicide in the Rimmer degree, but Tim was holding him back.

"Its okay, Paul, its okay. If you're good, shh, of your good and quiet I've got a nice biscuit in my room for you, there's a good boy!"

paul ceased growling and bounded off after Tim.

"Hey, Rimmer?"

"Yes, Lister?"

"You know how you've got a body 'n' that?"

"Yes, Lister."

"Well, you do realise you now have something solid I can pummel, don't yeh?"

"Yes, Lis-" Rimmer cut off mid syllable and ran. Lister gave chase.

"Oh I hate you Rimmer..."

Tim and Paul were in Tim's cramped, gun filled room. Paul was sitting on a chair with his feet on Tim's bed. He was smoking and picking his teeth simultaneously.

"Paul, why did you give the hallo- the hula- that person control of the ship? You put him in charge!"

"No I didn't."

"Yes you did!"

"No Ferguson."

"Yes you said-"

Paul swung his feet off the bed and grinned evilly.

"I lied."

"Oh," Tim sounded confused, "but that's dishonest!"

"No shit, ."

"I'm proud of you Paul!"

Paul stood up and pointed at Tim, who cowered back on the bed.

"Shut up tweezer dick. Don't be so condescending. You always act so superior. And I know why! You're jealous! Of my brains because YOU DON'T HAVE ANY!"

Tim leapt up.

"Well YOU'RE jealous of my looks- because you look like a chimp!"

"Air head!"

"Monkey boy!"

"Slug slime is smarter than you!"

"I had a pet duck with more sex appeal than you!"

"You smell!"

Tim looked shocked, and rather perplexed.

"No, Paul, _you're _the one who smells."

"I know. Did I ever say otherwise?"

"You said _I _smell."

"No! I never!"

"What? Wait... you're trying to confuse me! I've heard of this its called 'thinking'. None of that Paul, eh!"

Paul rolled his eyes and walked out muttering.

"... there's just no insulting some people... "


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Paul walked into the main room, dropped his cigarette and stood on it. He looked up and smiled slowly. In front of him was a master piece, worthy of his own genius: Rimmer with black eye and obese lip, all in all a right mess.

"But not messy enough," murmured Paul to himself as he approached the gibbering wreck.

"Lister hit me! Twice! I can't believe it!"

"Yeah. How awful."

"Hey, you're the guy who insulted me! I'll have you know I'm the captain of this vessel!"

"Huh? Captain? I don't think so mate."

"What? But-"

Paul put his hands in his pockets deliberately.

"This is my sub. Well, 'our' sub."

"Sub, but you're in space-"

"Not important."

"Oh shut up you ignoramus, how do you know I'm not aware of your story?"

"Somethin' bout 'three million years'."

"Well you stupid, short monkey, how do you know that wasn't a clever ruse?"

Paul was by this time, a little pissed off. No, he was VERY, very angry. It was the 'short' thing that clinched it

"Want to play Mr Potato?" asked Paul, in the style of Bob.

"What- no- wait-"

For the second time that day Rimmer was chased by someone shorter than him and this time it wasn't just a black eye. It was a black face.

Tim came out of his bedroom, just in time to see Paul ready to hit Rimmer again, and grabbed Paul.

"Tim," panted Paul, "This guy... locked... us... up."

"True, PAul, go ahead." Tim slapped Rimmer and _just _before Paul could break Rimmer's nose Richard came down off the roof with the CAt and Lister.

"Oh ay, leave off him!"

"Guys! What about a little tolerance!"

"I'm going for the monkey man and the bean pole."

Lister and Richard ran up and dragged the three men (?) apart. By this time Rimmer's make up was gone and he had apparently done away with the hair totally and had taken one of Tim's uniform. As soon as Paul and Tim were out of range he began insulting them and retreated under the table.

"Pain... oh pain..." was the constant moan from Rimmer as Lister passed him a thing that could in the right light be called a towel and water.

"hey, that was rough, you really beat him!"

"So? Wanna make something of it? Eh?" Paul was totally enraged and eventually Tim and Rich locked him in his room.

"Well you certainly ruined his face. Glad I wasn't on the end of that or you'd be lynched," said the Cat.

"What do you mean?" asked Tim suspiciously.

"Well, if you destroyed _this_ face you'd be in serious trouble, buddy. I mean _look_ at it!"

"Sorry? No. _I'm_ the beautiful one on this ship. Tim: tall and incredibly m-attractive."

"With _that_ uniform? No way."

"With _this _face, yes way!"

"That face?" scoffed the Cat, "Are you serious."

"Yeah!"

"Not a chance."

"You're not so beautiful yourself!"

"I am. My suits are."

"Yeah? Wait, suits? More than one? Can I see?" asked Tim eagerly.

"Sure buddy, learn from the _master_," the Cat started to strut off.

"Wait, Cat, aren't your suits on Red Dwarf?"

"Nah, I got a few on Starbug."

"Wha'?"

"Only 10 racks!"

"Mad," said Lister shaking his head. He turned to Richard and asked:

"Where's the short one's room?"

"Over there," replied Richard, pointing.

"Ta."

Rich smiled vacantly and looked around, then realised everyone had left.

"... pain... "

Except for Rimmer, under the table. Rich crouched down to talk to him.

"How are you?"

"How do you think I am you brainless goit I've just had the smeg beaten out of me my two other gormless maggots!"

Rich ignored the insult (or didn't hear it)

"Poor thing they were _really_ mean. They do that to me... the other day we played Mr Toaster seven times," Rich frowned, "and I didn't win once."

"Shut up. I don't like you and i don't want your sympathy, you snivelling wimp. Go away."

Richard looked crestfallen and on the verge of tears.

"... only Smuffy ever loved me..." he ran off to his room sobbing.

Meanwhile, Lister was sidling into Paul's room.

"Hello? Is anyone in here?"

"... everybody hates me, they hate me," Paul caught sight of Lister, "You hate me too! You hate me and I know why its because I'm a poor starving foundling! a _poor, starving_, foundling raised by emus, peck, peck, funny man, funny man!" Paul followed this extraordinary speech by standing up with that expression and doing emu actions.

"Wait, man, I don't hate yeh!"

"You do you do! And you, you, you're _happy!_ Because you know my dark secret, the poor starving foundling's secret, I have _syphilis_! And you know you know because because I'm BALD!" Paul ripped out his small Tin-Tinesque clump of hair.

"Oh ay, wait-"

Paul started wringing his hands and moaning, "Oh you hate me! You hate me because I'm a poor, starving, emu-raised foundling with syphilis who is- who is pregnant!" Paul stuck a pillow down his shirt and started lumbering around.

"WHAT? That's impossible, man, you're a man!"

"YOU HATE ME you hate me because I wasn't married and you hate me because I gave you syphilis! Oh! Funny man!"

"No Paul, you gave _me_ syphilis, remember?" said Tim as he walked in with Cat following. Tim was dressed in a ruffled pink and gold suit, one of the Cat's more flamboyant and tasteless suits, with an enormous dangling cross earring.

Tim smirked, "The Cat leant me some clothes."

"Yeah," Cat walked up to Lister and whispered, "I had to do it he wouldn't hut up. I gave him one of the out suits, you know, the over the top ones. I hate that earring," Cat grinned at Tim, "Of course, he don't look as good as me."

Tim ignored him and continued looking in a small hand mirror.

"I am too beautiful for this company!"

Paul had been shocked out of his mad rambling by the sight of Tim's suit.

"You look like a dickhead, dickhead! You look like fuckin' gay icon!"

"Jealous, eh, Paul?" Tim raised an eyebrow, "Anyway, must go... mirrors to see. Where's Richard, he'll appreciate me." Tim swept out of the room.

Lister and Cat stayed an crossed their arms simultaneously.

"Where's Kryten?" asked Lister.

"Yeah, you smelly monkey, where's the mechanical man?"

"Fuck. Off." Paul walked put after giving them the ups and frowning thunderously. Lister and Cat began searching the room.

"Oh, man this place is gross! It's like your dirty socks after a month in the basket!"

"I like it."

"Exactly."

"Found the chain saw," said Lister hoisting it onto his shoulder, "But where the smeg is Kryten?"

"Sirs?" came a small voice. Lister dropped the chain saw. "Sirs, I believe one of you is standing on me."

Lister jumped to the left. Cat didn't move.

"Cat! What if you're standing on him?"

"I would move," said the Cat, grimacing, "But I am stuck to the floor."

A pile of unidentified, soiled cloth stirred, just where Lister had been standing.

"Kryten!"

After they had dug, pulled, pushed, unstuck, sawn and melted (involving acid and various virulent alcohol products) Kryten out of Paul's top layer of filth and mess, they found his legs and carried him out into the main room.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The Dwarfers took Rimmer (complete with new body) and Kryten to Starbug. Holly remote piloted White Midget to the space-sub with supplies. The AllStars wouldn't let the Dwarfers back into Starbug alone, as they had finally realised that they would horribly spontaneously combust, die or otherwise cease to exist alive, so the five men, cat and mechanoid had to coexist.

Kryten was fixed, but much warier, and Tim had stolen several more of Cat's suits (they had also somehow got their hands on several other items of clothing from Red Dwarf). Paul and Lister were having a competition: who could get more (different) fungal growths on one foot. Richard was confused. No women have been seen for several life times (it seemed).

They've all gone a bit... peculiar.

Lister was sitting on the statue of the Venus de Milo, playing his guitar (it only has four working strings: A, G#, Mb and X$o). Tim stormed out of his room. In the holovirus dress.

"Would you stop that noise! Its awful!"

"Fuckin' oath it is! Call that music?" Paul stared at Tim, "I told you not to wear my dress! Give it back!" He grabbed the dress and tried to pull it off Tim. Lister was off in his own world.

"... from Ganymede and Titan yes sir I've been around..."

Richard ran into the room, "Tim! Tim! I've got a one!" Richard stared at Tim.

Paul had half the dress and smirked, "Does the Tim wear fishnets?" He clutched the dress and screamed (mood swings), "Its fuckin' ripped, my only good dress and its fuckin' ripped! I hate my life! Get me a drink! A drink, a drink, now a drink..."

Later after a few (too many) drinks, Lister has burped the whole of Yankee Doodle twelve times and passed out, Cat has had 'only milk I promish' and gone to bed. Rimmer has drunk himself stupid(er) and is singing "I've got a loverly bunch of coconuts" to a bust of Shakespeare and Paul is sitting on Tim's lap. And Rich is confiding in Lister's comatose body that "... only was my friend..."

"Ah!" said Paul, leaping up, "A drinking song!" The three Dougs stand up and sing:

"Wo-o-o-o-o

Wo-o-o-o-o

Wo-o-o-o-ah!

Its a broad lick nic and I'll tell you while I'm able

Or I'll smash your skull if you'll not drink enough black label

It's a hard man's drink and though the bottles broken

Put your money on the table strain the glass through your teeth!"

Paul goes right up to Rimmer and sings in his face. Throughout the whole song he and Tim are singing at Rimmer and walking around him.

"So we grew up lean mean kings of the street scene

Without a mother's guiding hand to keep us clean

Down your rum we'll take life as it comes

And all your blue rinse critics can lick our literary bum

I drank my first pure malt before I was three

Smoked a pack of Dutch cigarettes my poppy left for me

And I romanced a little lass who was twelve years my elder

At the age of six I held her that year I also bed her

So before I was seven my first child was born

I told a pack of filthy lies as a politician

Heard my own confession as an act of contrition

I spent 10 years as a trapless monk in a village in Tibet

(Liar!)

And I walked up Everest naked (hunh!) just to win a bet

Hey!

Wo-o-o-o-o

Wo-o-o-o-o

Wo-o-o-o (plthffgggrrt)

I cut off my leg to win a one legged race

And when I won I stitched it right back into place

I fought Mohammed Ali

I seduced Matahari

I've even worn a sari

When I impersonated Ghandi

And I dare any man here to call me a liar!

But I swear I've seen Ezekiel I swear I've seen Isiah

Toasting marshmallows in Beelzebub's fire

And we're mad, bad, dangerous to know

We never gave a tinker's cuss about the seeds we sow

And we stay up late and never be forlorn

And when the morning comes around we'll kiss the crack of dawn

(Shame Fraser, shame)

We took the wax from Kerouacs and dusty Dostoyevskys

And when all was said and done booze was all I had left me

For all the world's great thinkers are all a load of pus!

And if you ask us how Zarathrustra spoke

He spake thus!

Drink drink drink

drink until we're drunk

drink until you can't stand up 'til you're roly-poly stunk 'til your bladder bursts 'til your throw fit to curse

'til they lift you up still comatose and slam dance in the hearse

And were good bad ugly as sin

We mixed up cough syrup

with our gin

So take your medicine

I pray that when I die

There'll be someone else around to kiss my arse good bye

Yes I pray I pray that when I die

There'll be someone else around to kiss my arse good bye!"

The three collapsed to the ground after their energetic effort.

"Woo, you fellash sure can belt out a tune eh!" said Rimmer.

He wasn't used to his body yet, and kept trying to walk through walls (though he had never done so as a hologram), he was unused to the whole 'toilet' thing after three million years and passionately hated and resented breathing. He was ill looking, to say the least.

"You know, I'm a total smeghead? Its been dawning on me the past couple weeks. I'm a bloody stupid git to hang 'round with you off chilli egg bastards..."

"We fuckin' hate you too," said Tim drunkenly and whacked Rimmer on the back. He fell over, then pulled himself up.

"No, really, I mean, even unconscious slob over there is better than you total egotishtical twats! Well you two anyway, the other one is just thick."

"What? Did you insult me and Paul? Hey! Say what you like about him, leave me out of it. I don't even like him , to be honest!"

"Yeah?"

"But he's a fuckin' good bo-"

"Shut up! I don't want to know you and your disgusting little go abouts itsh not intreshting!"

"If you say so!" Tim winked hugely at Rimmer and keeled over backwards after draining the last of the...

"... Smütchøk? Sounds dangerous... here's another bottle," Rimmer drank some and nearly exploded, "GOD that's good!"

The pressure of life, along with another Lister (except meaner), another Cat (except uglier, whiter and crazier) and a human puppy dog and the distinct lack of any chance of returning to Earth had taken its toll. Rimmer had fallen in love with the bottle. He was like himself in 'Better Than Life' when the tax man came for him, but with better teeth.

"I hate my life," chimed Rimmer and Paul in drunken harmony.

Kryten walked in.

"Oh dear. I think I'll spend tonight on Starbug," he put a bucket, towels and a box of nameless hangover drugs inside the doorway and left.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

The next day saw five ill, yellow faces open their eyes, moan and bury themselves under the nearest available blanket. The problem being the relative shortage of the aforementioned bedclothes: there was only one blanket.

"Fuckin' give it to me, its mine! Oh my head..." moaned Paul.

"Smeg, did I get drunk or did I get drunk..." croaked Lister.

"Aspirin. Aspirin. Someone get me a damn aspirin.." Tim demanded groggily.

Richard pulled himself up from under the table and promptly sank down again.

"Urgh.. why do I have a rhinoceros helmet on?" asked Rimmer.

"Well, who drew a 'H' on my forehead?" countered Richard.

"Someone! Help me! I'm wearing _beige_!" Cat was apparently wearing one of the AllStars overalls.

Lister struggled up and dragged the box of hangover treatments and distributed them (by amount of other people's clothing worn by the recipient).

Kryten came in and began dusting.

"Well, did you enjoy your night of drunkenness? Did you revel in the orgies of alcoholism you experienced? Did you sip from the great cup of Bacchus and reach the highest peak of ecstasy in your inebriated evening of excess?"

"Ah, shut up!" came the response from the five other people.

"I was just trying to make conversation! Oh, by the way, I installed a cable network to connect Holly with this 'TV' thing in the foyer here, so we can communicate with her." Kryten went over to the TV and fiddled with it. Holly came up on the screen.

"Hello, chaps, glad to see me?"

Moans.

"Oh yes, hello Holly, we've missed you terribly the past few weeks. Oh thank you boys, well going to introduce me to your friends, why yes Holly, this is Blah, Blah and Blah-"

"Oh shut up you stupid computer!" snapped Rimmer.

Holly ignored him, "And by the way Arnold has a body, oh really, yes and we lost the light bee, well don't worry I've got a better one Kryten found it in Starbug, oh yes, a hard-light bee, the hologram can touch, taste and feel."

"Wha? Hol, what'd you say?"

"I found a hard light bee, sir. It was in the munitions cabinet of the Starbug. It was for use in emergencies, when the hologram was required for physical work. it was deemed too dangerous for everyday use as the hologram would have no fear for its own life, in theory, and therefore could do whatever it wanted. The 'hard light' protected the bee. Holly believes she could use the odd power of this ship, coupled with the remote connection to Red Dwarf, to sustain up three or four hard light holograms."

"What the fuck are you on about?" asked Paul, "Are you saying you can make sort of simulations of people? And we can touch 'em? Instead of them just bein' light like he was?"

Kryten nodded.

"Anyone?"

He nodded again. The same thought dawned on the five at the same time.

"Women!" said Paul, Rich and Rimmer.

"Boats!" cried Tim ecstatically.

"Kochansky!" said Lister.

"Me-ow!" said Cat.

Kryten looked at them and sighed. He plugged the vacuum attachment and plugged it into his 'groinal socket' and began cleaning the room. The four men and Cat crowded around Holly.

"So, computer-" began Paul.

"Holly."

"Whatever, you can get us sheilas?"

"What?"

"Women! Women!"

"I s'pose. But the projection disks in Red Dwarf were damaged when the triplicator went off and the holograms would be seriously deranged if we tried to animate them," Holly frowned then looked up, "Wait, I've found something very similar to our projection disks in this... er... ship."

"What? What?"

"Well there seems to be, yep, two women and a man."

"Do it!"

"All right, geez no peace around here always wanting computations... done."

Three people walked out from behind the screen. One was grinning as widely as a Cheshire cat and had an enormous pink bow tie.

"Hello!" Bob Downe said gushingly, "How are you, how are you, mwah mwah!" He shook all their hands and pinched Lister's cheek. He then took Tim and Krytens' arms and walked off with them.

The first woman walked up to Paul, "I'm Richard's wife," she said and patted his cheek. She walked over to Richard and took him off some where.

Paul, Lister and Rimmer looked very disappointed (with hangovers coming back).

"So who're you?" asked Paul of the one remaining woman gruffly.

"Well... my name's Tess."

"Hey, I'm Lister," he shook her hand and grinned.

"Good morning, I am Arnold J Rimmer."

"... Judas... " Rimmer kicked a grinning Lister.

"Paul." said Paul shortly.

"So, why're you here?" asked Lister.

"Ahe had some connection with one of those men on this vessel." interjected Holly.

"I was madly in love with Tim... for five minutes... then I talked to him and the illusion was shattered."

Paul and Lister laughed and took one of Tess's arms each. She rolled her eyes as (when the three walked off) they started competing, in their own style '... I drank X pints of X last night and I'm not dead...'.

Rimmer was alone. He looked up at Holly.

"Four? Kryten said something about four?"

Holly sighed, "I can try. The person won't be brilliant... can't sustain something too complicated."

A blonde woman walked out from behind the screen.

"'Ello. I'm Bubble."

"Arnold," Rimmer grinned predatorily, "Funny you remind me of some one I used to know..."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Rimmer looked up from his slide projection unit (it was "lamp posts of the 19th century"), "The next one is a real beauty, the-" His eyes opened wide. He was alone. Bubble had disappeared.

"Smeg."

Rimmer charged out into the main room.

"Has anyone seen Bubble...?" He slowed and stopped, "What are you doing?" On first glance there appeared to be a meeting of the mafia taking place. Then you see the cards. There were six 'men' gathered round a circular table with a single light above it. The atmosphere is smoky, muddled dim and extremely seedy.

"Shh... Ferguson is about to play..." mumbled someone.

"Poker, eh? Gambling. A foolish vice, I've always thought, just another word for fleecing."

"First," hissed Paul, "its Fish. Second, yes it is gambling..."

Rimmer smirked.

"... Rich's wife's left, so he's got shit faced and we're cheating him out of all his worldly goods."

Rimmer's smirk disappeared, "She's gone too? What the hell is going on?"

HE was hushed again as Tim moved: he put a single card on the table. It had an enormous '1' on it in red ink.

"Damn, you win again you cheating bastard," called Paul in an unconvincing display of disappointment over the low hum of background jazz and dying theatre critics.

"Yes, Rich, which means..." Tim rubbed his fingers together, "Pay up time!'

"But I gave you all my money already," Rich said in a small desperate voice. His voice broke, "I 'spose I have the watch my grandfather gave me before he died. The only thing he ever gave me, the symbol of his forgiveness and apology to my father after years of bitter feuding," Rich sobbed and held out a sad scrappy bronze watch on a chain.

Tim pulled out a pair of half moon glasses and inspected it closely, "Hmm... I'm sorry Richard, " he looked over the top of the spectacles, "this just isn't enough."

"But Tim... I've got nothing left..."

"Hey, Ferguson, I never knew you wore glasses!"

"I don't, they just give me an air of knowledge and shit... and I reckon they look pretty good on me, " Tim tried various poses; looking over with his hand on the rim of the glasses, one hand on his hip shaking a finger at Paul, etc.

"Nah. You look like a prat, you prat," replied Paul after sitting stoically through Tim's performance.

"HELLO? Is ANYONE listening to me? THE holograms have smegging disappeared!" screamed Rimmer at the others.

Cat and Lister looked up.

"Yeh. We know."

"What? Well what are we going to do?"

"Nothin'," Lister turned away from Rimmer, "Holly's gone."

"What?"

"She cut the connection and all scans show that she is no longer in a scannable range," interjected Kryten, "We can't find Red Dwarf."

"My God, Holly's finally cracked."

"No," said Rich from the depths of despair, "It was Paul and Tim. They got sick of Bob and they were JEALOUS of me..."

"What are you blathering about?" asked Rimmer condescendingly.

"They cut the cables, told that computer to go away... THEY did it. THEM!"

"Well, Rich no need to get angry," Paul smiled condescendingly, "anyway, the computer deserved it."

Tim smiled cruelly, "Yeah it wouldn't make Paul another," he paused, "'girl'."

Paul whacked Tim and he gracelessly fell off his chair.

"Shut up , Ferguson, I'M speaking. Anyway Rich was telling the truth. I did cut the cables."

"And burn them. And hack the TV to pieces..." muttered Tim.

"Yeah, yeah. So we got no more holograms. You're still here."

"We might not be for much longer, way you've been treating us!" exclaimed Lister, galvanised by Paul's admission of destroying his first girlfriend for over three million years.

"Ha. You couldn't get out of here."

"And why?"

"Because of us," Paul grinned as Tim lifted up an enormous rocket launcher and Paul himself hoisted up his trusty spear gun,"Wanna try it? Oh and don't you owe us some money? Another game of Fish maybe, eh?" Paul was by this time grinning maniacally.

Lister smiled in a 'humour the madman' way, "Nah, pass thanks..." Lister, Cat and Rimmer made a run for the door and pelted down the corridor. Paul and Tim exchanged glances and raised their eyebrows.

"A little hunting sport, my friend?" said Tim in a uppity English accent.

Paul imitated him, "Indeed, but I'm not YOUR fucking friend."

"Oh Paul. I though that was what we were! Fucking friends!"

They ran off after the Dwarfers.

Richard was alone in the room, "I only ever wanted one thing in life. To be loved...

I don't care if the love ain't real,

I just want to know that feel.

I want someone to love me,

I want someone to love me.

Because you rejected me,

You rejected me..."

Rich sobbed and fell to the trusty refuge of the alone: under the table to cry.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Lister and the other Red Dwarf crew were crouched behind a large unobtrusive cardboard box.

"Hey, buddy, you think they've given up?" asked the Cat wearily, "we've been her for hours!"

"CAT its only been fifteen minutes, they could easily be there waiting for us. I thought cats were supposed to be PATIENT..."

"I am! Just not when i'm sitting so close to Mr Lamp Post!"

Rimmer (for it was he Cat was speaking of) was having an 'embarrasing panic attack' out of the cover of the box and gibbering about short people and disappearences and death. Kryten was attempting to calm him, and all of them gave up. They stood and walked out of the cover of the box (except Rimmer who was dragged). they were confronted by a deranged person with a bad combover, large glasses and a tangle of christmas lights around his neck.

"Merry Chris-mas!" he said as he brought out an enourmos carving knife.

For the second time in two chapters the Dwarfers looked horrified and looked at each other.

"Leg it!" cried Lister, and they turned to run and fell into the cardboard box.

And kept on falling.

Richard was by this time sitting in his room writing another letter:

"Dear mummy wummy scrummy yummy its your widdle piddle wichie itchie scitchie poo. The others are bastards," he looked up and frowned slightly, " I think they dont like me..."

Tim was on the table in the main room looking at the ceiling.

"Hmm. Those rats have got at the cables again."

Paul appeared at knee height.

"No Tim, remember that's from when you threw Richard's birthday present-- you know the scale model of the Pacific Ocean at the ceiling and the coral ate the wires."

"Oh... I never knew coral was carnivorous. That's amazing. My cousin Valmay went to the sea once.. most of her came back poor thing, but they never found that kidney..."

Tim looked around and ealised Paul had disappeared.

Paul was walking along a corridor looking very shifty, darting glances at every passing speck, keeping an eye on everything. He opened a door and went inside. He was in the room with the TV, the link to Fnord. He turned it on and whispered something.

"You have Done Well!" boomed out of the TV, but it wasn't the voice of Fnord it was female, and very gruff.

Paul smirked and nodded, "Well I couldn't disobey my own mother..."

He turned to a table and on it was a panel of controls: presumably for the Titanic II. He pressed the one marked 'Press This IF You Wish To Steal The Sub'. he began to laugh madly, and highpitched.

The TV exploded and he screamed.

"NO! My only link to home, to the grand master plan of G.T.S.!

The room started to fill with smoke and go green. Flacco rose out of the floor, complete with horns and a forked tail.

"Hello. Just popping by... I'm Satan by the way, or Santa, either way, Some would even call me Flacco but who listens to Some, personally I think he's full of gas."


End file.
